The ABC's of the Third Wheel
by Evil-Ekat
Summary: AU. Experiences of the one boy who always had to tread on the grass because his friends were hogging the sidewalk.


**Read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **A** pple Orchard

Larry can still recall the period in time he began to wonder about how Phoenix and Edgeworth acted around each other. It was all naïve, childish thoughts of course. He didn't fully understand what was going on. Of course, most people didn't around that point.

Before that train of thinking started, there was a school trip. It was autumn, the weather as crisp as his memory of the day. The leaves weren't quite turning yet, but the apples were ready for harvesting. So, bundled up in their windbreakers and boots, they lined up in preparation to abandon the city. As they stood outside the yellow bus, their teacher and the parent volunteers caught their attention.

"It's very important that you pick a buddy to hold on to," she simpered, in a patronizing voice. "And you make sure to stick with them throughout the entire day."

"DibsonMiles!" Nick shouted, the moment she finished speaking.

"What? No fair!" Larry stomped his foot. "I wasn't ready!"

They turned to their friend for input.

"First come, first served," he nonchalantly answered, averting his eyes from them both.

"Sorry Larry," said a not-so-apologetic Nick. "I don't think Varsha has a partner yet, if you want to ask her."

He was telling the truth. The aforementioned stood all on her own. She toyed with the empty, woven basket given to her for carrying apples.

"If I die of cooties-" Larry warned.

"We'll make sure your tombstone is shaped like your face," he reassured.

"And carry out your will exactly as planned."

"Fine."

Larry plucked up the courage to ask her to be his buddy. He heard one final remark as he strode he strode over.

"Well? Take my hand already. I'm not getting into trouble because of you."

 **B** orscht

Horrid, Japanifornian winter. Steam curled off the sidewalk and pressed against the windows of the restaurant. Larry stood under the canopy of the building. His school books were clutched tightly to his chest, as he waited out the downpour. A flickering light came from the scattered candles within. Rush hour meant the space was cramped full of people. They gathered takeout to bring to their families, or sat alone at tables, warming their raw hands over their soup. From the sea of older, working-class faces, he picked out two youth his own age. On their rickety table, a serving of borscht sat in the middle of them. Mouths were darkly splotched from the beetroot, as if it was blood which they sipped from their spoons. Between the chattering of his teeth, he licked his own lips, wishing he had soup. Wanting to have a friend who he could merge his own allowance with to escape the cold.

 **C** rown

Phoenix was clearly "Jack" in this situation; he was always getting injured in some unfortunate way. That probably made Miles the "Jill" of the dilemma. He didn't just come tumbling after, he full-on sprinted. It was one of the few times he had ever seen Edgey run. He even kept it to a slow jog in gym class, so who knew he could move so fast? He could have outraced a jet!

The scraped and mud-covered Phoenix was inspected for serious injury, checked for broken bones. Above Nick's sniffling, he was scolded for his "foolishness," and how, "didn't he know the sidewalks were extra slippery in spring?" Larry ran to his friends as well, but there was little left for him to do. Bandages were wrapped around his arms, the blood mopped from his scalp. Edgey had everything under control, right down to patting Nick's back.

 **D** riveway

At dusk, every shadow leered at them. It probably had to do with all the warnings their parents had given them, about coming home before it got too late. There were coyotes out at night, and teenagers. The sweltering climate dropped quickly too. Yes, that was the reason why he was shivering. He wasn't scared of attackers, he was merely getting cold. As it grew darker, they talked less, wanting to draw less attention to themselves. The slap of their feet against the pavement suddenly became too loud, and Larry found himself on his tiptoes. Nick's house came first. Moths were drawn to the outdoor lamp on the porch. Edgey walked up the driveway with Nick, and waited until he was safely inside to turn away.

 **E** arly

Personally, he didn't understand why people showed up with thirty minutes to the bell. There was a perfectly good grace period after it rang. A whole five minutes to go to one's locker, and move to class before the anthem played! Nevertheless, on the few days he came early, they were always together. He shouldn't have found it that strange, but at the same time, it was odd to wonder how long Nick and Edgey spent alone together. What did they talk about when he wasn't there? How were they able to do any three-player games without him?

In the end, speculation only got him in trouble with the teacher. It came with a lecture about focusing in class.

 _"How am I supposed to pay attention when I don't know who stops Nick and Edgey from arguing too much without me there?!"_ Larry wanted to ask her.

Instead, he nodded, pretending to accept her words.

 **F** ranziska

As it turned out, he wasn't the only one who was annoyed with the phenomenon. Franziska hated it almost as much as she hated his guts. She was barely speaking in full sentences that were _German_ , but Larry was still somehow roped into her plan. With much vicious pointing and frustrated exclamations, he managed to understand what she wanted him to do.

 _"Tell him that he's not allowed to spend any more time without me!"_

Perhaps it would sound more convicting, coming from a friend, rather than a sibling? True or not, the little kid was scary. The others were perched on the high monkey bars, chatting. Franziska was too short to climb them. When she tried, Mister Edgeworth had rushed over and told her not to. Likely that was why he, the tallest friend, had been recruited. Kicking his legs and straining in the air, he managed to drag himself on the bars. Now he simply had to climb across, and not look down. Otherwise he would start to shake, and her gaze would hardly help the situation.

"H-hey um-" Larry was short on breath, and afraid of falling.

"Decided to join us?"

"Y-yeah!"

"I thought you said the monkey bars were lame," Nick pointed out.

He gripped the cold metal to the point where his knuckles turned white.

"E-Edgey, your s-sister says that you can't hide up here forever, a-and to-"

"Tell her that the merry-go-round is a better choice," he dismissively said.

"Right," he squeaked. "I'll just go then..."

He waited for them to protest, but they just watched as he shakily got down. Larry couldn't even get angry, he was still recovering from the heights.

"H-hey er, you," he began, when her glare was pinned on him. "How about we both go do something else?"

"Hmph."

She was clearly not impressed by the idea, nor his cowardice.

"Yeah, we can go have fun without them!" Larry continued, babbling. "That'll show 'em to desert us!"

Pushing her dangerously fast on the merry-go-round, and teaching her to jump off the swing did not catch his friends' attention. Just the fretting of Mister Edgeworth. In the end, he could grudgingly admit it was just a smidgen fun.

 **G** roceries

Larry had been going through Edgey's fridge when he encountered something strange.

"Don't you hate bell peppers?" Larry asked, looking at the red vegetable in question. "Why would your dad buy any?"

Edgey did not look up from his book. He was leaning against the counter, making corrections to the margins of his homework.

"Phoenix likes them."

There was an idle lilt to his voice, he wasn't paying that much attention. It gave Larry the impression he had just replied in a way he normally wouldn't have. But all he could muster was a curt reply.

"Oh."

 **H** ide-and-Seek

"-eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

Larry uncovered his eyes, and squinted. Even within the shade of the trees, the sun was bright. Reddish beams of poked between gaps in the leaves, making patterns. He scanned the area, wondering where his friends had likely run off too. Gourd Lake was naturally a very open place. Much of it was grass, and overgrown gardens. There were spots to hide around the boathouse and food stand, but he doubted they could have run so far in so little time. That left the forest to his back, the scattered assortment of trees and picnic tables were in front of him. Larry was certain he would have heard them crashing through the thicket. Crackling twigs would have given them away.

Forwards it was then. He started in the direction of the shore, figuring it was best to look at things from a different angle. They weren't hiding behind any of the tree trunks, or crouched by a bench. As he drew close to the water, Larry inspected around the base of a blooming tree. Part of it stretched over the lake.

Like snow, fragile, pink flowers tumbled down. They were floaty, resting on the gently rippling water. Was the wind making them fall, or did they break off out of their own volition? Waves thick with them lapped against the shore, and he could feel them stick in his hair. A patch free of the petals gleamed in the sun. A flash caught his eye, and he curiously looked at the reflection. Larry squinted, trying to understand the distorted image. He saw something silvery, and something spiky, pressed closely together. Larry whirled around, he knew who those heads belonged to!

"Edgey and Nick, sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-"

"Yeah, you found us," Nick sighed, dropping from the branch.

He climbed down in a more responsible manner, and dusted off his hands.

"Who did you see first?" Edgey asked, straightening his bow tie.

"It was your hair which caught my attention," Larry decided.

"Speaking of which-" Nick ruffled his bangs, getting rid of all the flowers.

"Don't-!"

In retaliation, he brushed Nick's spikes the wrong way, making them all stand on end. A hideous squawking sound came from Nick's mouth, and he quickly tried to flatten his precious hairdo.

"Count to ten!" Larry interrupted, before they could get too caught up in each other.

"Right."

They both reddened, but Edgey kept his arm over his face to hide it. Obviously trying to pass off the action as him counting, he began, "one, two-"

Nick ran off in one direction, Larry in the other.

"-three-"

Thinking of how close they were in the tree, and their flustered actions, Larry wondered if there was truth behind the mocking song.

 **I** ambic Pentameter

"Why does the poem have feet?"

"That's just the term to explain it," Phoenix sighed. "Five feet per line. That's where the _penta_ in _pentameter_ comes from."

They sat with the night face up, resting in Edgey's backyard. They swatted at the mosquitoes which rose from the long grass, and trapped crickets in their cupped palms. Lightning bugs hovered around, announcing their presence by glowing. Planets and stars poked through the sky as well. They even traced a few satellites across the surface.

"That's a lotta' paper for one line," Larry replied. "I'd hate having to have an assignment that long."

It was one of those rare evenings where the light pollution was muted- and all it had taken was an earthquake knocking out their city's power to achieve the effect. Edgey was leaning against a tree, and was absently petting his dog. He seemed fine now, if a little quiet. Larry remained deliberately obtuse to the issue of Phoenix's poetry, figuring it would be infuriating enough to draw him back into the conversation.

"It would be parchment, and it's not feet like the imperial system, it's feet as in two syllables. Which means ten syllables per line, because two times five feet is ten!"

"Ten _feet?_ How does this keep getting longer? Who was Shakespeare's teacher?"

"No, ten syllables!" Phoenix turned pleading eyes to his friend. "Miles, help me out here."

"Why don't you read an example?" Edgey suggested, voice cold and distant.

"Fine. This is sonnet one hundred thirty, which is written in iambic pentameter."

Nick began to recite in archaic English Larry could not even begin to understand. There was something about a mistress, and how her eyes were lame. Wasn't this supposed to be a romantic poem? Then why was the dude comparing her to so many ugly things?

Fireflies continued to wink in and out of existence. He did not even see one buzzing around his face until light was shining in his eye. He slanted his head, trying to shoo away the pesky bug, and caught sight of something. Edgey had taken his eyes off the sky, he was looking at Nick, and _smiling._ Obviously he understood the stupid thing then _._ Suddenly, the light went out, and when it returned, he was back to staring off.

"I still don't get it. Doesn't that first line technically have eleven syllables? Give a better example!"

"It has to do with the accents and pronunciations of the period," Phoenix sighed. "But I guess I can think of a few more."

So, he went on, reciting poetry Larry couldn't decipher. Between flares of light, Edgey continued to smile.

 **J** urisprudence

"Spell it again!"

"J-U-R-I-S-P-R-U-D-E-N-C-E!"

"Spell it backwards!"

"E-C-N-E-D-U-R-P-S-I-R-U-J!"

Phoenix took a moment to think it out, before enthusiastically nodding.

"I was joking, but good job anyway! Next, how many vowels are there in _juris doctorate?_ "

"Is that a joke too?" Edgey asked, he was going blue in the face. "Either way, it's six."

Larry watched, feeling sidelined as they prepared for the spelling bee. Everyone in the grade already knew that Edgey was going to win, why did he even need to bother practicing? And, for that matter, why did Nick feel the need to test him on every word with over ten letters?

"How many consonants that are not T does that leave you with?"

With a groan, Larry pulled a pillow over his head. When would it end?

 **K** nitting

The typical hospitalizing mishap came to Phoenix's doorstep once again. It had rearranged his shoulder, and filled his arms with shallow cuts. He had merely fallen while cleaning the gutters, a surprisingly tame event. The most disturbing detail was that he had been sliced by parts of the metal rake on the way down, so he had required a blood transfusion.

"No more attempting to fly," the doctor tutted, glancing at her clipboard. "The ladder won't give you any more of an advantage than you already have."

Was she joking about his first name, or his last?

"It was a stepladder," he petulantly said.

While not the most dramatic of Phoenix's injuries, he still had a longer than usual hospital stay. So, while his skin knitted, Nick decided to take up the hobby himself. When they came to visit, he sent them down to the overpriced gift shop, to buy yarn and needles. An instruction book apparently wasn't needed, because one of his ward-mates was going to teach him.

"I can make squares, place mats, carpets, scarves, rectangles and blankets," he proudly said, holding up the lumpy knot of yarn.

"You think the morphine's getting to him?" Larry hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

In retaliation, Miles sharply nudged him in the ribs. Larry plastered on a fake grin, trying not to betray how much he hated the hospital. There was the never-ending clatter of machinery, the silvery coils of tubes, snaking in and out of patient's bodies. Every surface was either weirdly clean, or horrifically contaminated, and he could feel the germs crawling up from the floor and into his eyeballs. Most of all, he hated seeing his friend with a needle wedged and taped into his forearm, while he was dressed in a gown of crinkling blue paper.

"Have you thought about making quadrilaterals yet?"

Again, he was hit in the side. Edgey cleared his throat, and said, "that's a perfectly wonderful..."

"Scarf," Phoenix helped.

His voice was dopey from the painkillers, another thing which he hated. It didn't sound like Nick in bed. He was a mockery, an impersonator who thought spiked hair was the only criteria needed to become Phoenix Wright.

"We would both _happily_ wear one, right _Larry?"_

Still in pain, he could only make a wheezing noise.

"Wool is frequently used for its insular abilities, I'm sure whatever you make will be perfect for this winter."

The "scarf" he held up was filled with irregular holes from where he had not pulled the stitching close enough. Larry seriously doubted its properties.

 **L** arry

"LARRY!"

Lately, they had taken to shouting his name whenever he showed up. It was disbelieving in tone, and normally a bit annoyed. Larry didn't really understand where it was coming from. Ashley had just broken up with him! How was he ever supposed to love again, when she had smashed his heart to itty-bitty pieces and pressurized the carbon into diamonds which she then pawned off?! Well, she hadn't quite done that, but she _had_ been taking from his wallet, as well as his mother's jewelry box whenever she came over.

"How did you get in here?"

"How am I ever going to trust again?!"

"But how did you enter my _house_ at _one_ in the morning _without_ a key?"

"I looked for Nick first, but couldn't find him! Then Franziska told me you were having a sleepover!"

"That sneaky-!"

"I know! I can't believe she was using me to steal jewelry!" Larry cried, dramatically falling onto the bed. "How will I ever be willing to put myself out there in a state like this?"

With him in the middle, they both tumbled onto the floor. Nick scrambled to get his shirt back on, and Edgey was in search of his tie.

Despite them now being awake, they were oddly unsympathetic to his plight.

 **M** iles

Whenever Phoenix chased after him, he was bound to be yelling Edgey's name as well.

Would Nick chase after him for miles? Or maybe feet?

Larry shook his head, trying not to think about iambic pentameter, and how emotional Nick got when saying his name.

 **N** otice

It was one of those lazy evenings, where they had found a boring movie to talk above, an excuse to eat junk food. Phoenix had passed out first, half-hanging off the couch at an awkward position. He looked like a corpse, arms hanging limply, and his mouth wide open. Did the blood rushing to his head not bother him at all?

"He's going to ruin his back," Edgey muttered, poking him with his foot. "Wake up."

 _"Whaaa_?" Phoenix asked, yawning.

"You can use my bed if you want, but don't fall asleep like that."

Still bleary from sleep, he attempted to look around. He eventually sat up, clutching his hair as the blood returned to his body.

" _Huuuh_?"

"Honestly."

Huffing, he got to his feet, and hoisted Nick to his own.

"I'll be right back."

He half-escorted, half-carried Nick out of the room. Larry's eyes were glued to the bluish glow of the television, but he could hear the creak of the stairs. The movie wasn't engrossing, he honestly had been more interested in his popcorn than the plot. Now he tried to pick up on the story, wondering who was who, and where the story was going.

He concentrated hard. To the point where he did not realize how long they were gone until the end credits rolled. Then he focused harder, not wanting to imagine what was holding them up.

 **O** ptions

It was his natural instinct to side with Nick when they got into prolonged fights. He was the less snobby friend, the emotional one who would openly cry. But then Edgey would show up on his doorstep, more surly than usual and unable to make eye contact.

"Franziska told me to go outside and stop moping," he greeted, already inviting himself in. "As if _I_ would do such a thing."

"Yeah, sisters are like that," Larry sighed.

He would throw a pity-party, deny that he was doing so, and then stare off into space. And, for some stupid reason, he was friends with the guy. Larry couldn't bring himself to take Nick's side when he was so pathetically upset. It tugged at his heartstrings, he couldn't stop himself from feeling sorry.

Of course, while Edgey was sitting at the kitchen table, who would call him other than Nick?

If he didn't pick up, Nick would just keep calling him.

"Hey, uh, you," Larry said, trying to be as subtle as possible.

"Can I come over?"

"Er-"

"Thanks Larry, I'm just outside now."

Larry had never dated two people at the same time before. He wasn't a no-good cheater! He was perfectly faithful, perfectly good boyfriend material! Still, Larry got the distinct impression he had just trapped himself in a doomed, two-girlfriend situation. He needed to hide the existence of one from the other, but it seemed a bit too late for that. He couldn't force himself to pick a side when they were both so miserable!

Instead, he chose to abandon ship.

"I'll be right back."

Larry went and locked himself in bathroom. The window was forced open, and he popped out the screen. His mum's prized rose bushes did not make for a soft landing. Larry untangled himself from them just as the yelling began in the kitchen.

Yanking out a thorn from his arm, Larry announced to himself, "worth it."

 **P** hoenix

Typically accompanied by "Wright," unless Edgey wasn't thinking about what he was saying. Larry had never persuaded him to say Nick, not even when the person in question wasn't there.

Since just Phoenix was only used when he wasn't concentrated, Larry had come to associate it with something bad happening. It usually involved the event which led to Nick's latest hospitalization.

But there were worse reasons out there, which he had not yet learned of. Larry discovered this when he decided to drop in on Nick one day. He spent about five seconds, trying to make sense of what was going on, before discreetly leaving.

From then on, he flinched whenever Edgey referred to him as Phoenix.

 **Q** uiche

Nick had taken up cooking, he was actually quite good at it. Being the starving student that he was, Larry stopped by, hoping that there would be food Nick would be willing to spare him. He had been living off the occasional ramen and school vending machines. All his food money went into energy drinks, which he consumed because he did not have enough strength due to the lack of food. It was a vicious cycle, which was why he pleadingly stared at Nick now.

" _Niiick!_ Don't you have anything I could eat?" Larry begged.

"Well," he started, scratching the back of his head. "I've got leftover pizza-"

"Don't you have some _actual_ food I could eat?" Larry rephrased. "I know for a fact that you were cooking, I saw you buying eggs at the grocery store when I was eating free samples! Because I'm starving!"

"It's for Miles, he never remembers to eat during exam season-"

"I never eat because I have no food!"

"You're welcome to anything in the house which is not the quiche Larry."

With a long-suffering sigh, Larry nodded.

 **R** oses

How could one man get so torn up, all over a simple bouquet?

 _"With Nick's luck of course."_

Still, he couldn't feel a bit jealous as they were presented. How come he wasn't getting a giant bunch of flowers to commemorate their friendship? And, for that matter, how was he supposed to top _that_ for Valentine's Day?

 **S** erenade

Nick cajoled him into it with his culinary skills. His house was the closest to Edgey's, so he had been the person to run the extension cord all the way from his garage to the side of Edgey's house. Crossing a road, wrapping around a stop sign, and somehow just making it to the electric keyboard Phoenix had brought along for the ride. (Larry had also been in charge of moving that.) Franziska took one glance at the fifteen power bars, the neon-yellow cords, and the stupid expression on Nick's face.

"Absolutely not. Phoenix Wright, I forbid you from-"

"I brought ear muffs," Larry supplied, holding a pair out to her. "Noise pollution is romantic I guess."

"He can't even _play_ the piano!" Franziska snarled, taking the muffs.

"S' not going to stop him."

 **T** en

Ten was the age when they first started to become friends, but it was also the age they started to split up. Uneven numbers seemed to say it was bound to happen, but Larry couldn't put his frustrations into words. He wasn't a yellow-belly though!

Most of the time, it wasn't as if they had done anything _wrong_. They just hung out more with each other than with him. They clicked better. And, when they were together, it wasn't as if they were deliberately trying to exclude him.

So what right did he have to complain?

 **U** nequal

There were many other UN-words which could be substituted for unequal.

Unfair

Unjust

Unlucky.

It was the best word to describe the situation for a long time, until he came across a superior definition.

 **V** isual

The ring was probably the best way to prove that he had always been fighting a losing battle.

"Too much, or not enough?"

Larry worked, trying to think of a vapid response he could give. What did _he_ know about engagement rings? What did _he_ know about proposals?

"Who else knows?" Larry asked, stalling for time.

The golden band was _just_ flashy enough, he would obviously love it, but Larry didn't know if that was good enough for a proposal.

"You're the first."

Had been prioritized over everyone else, or was he simply the closest person to tell?

Larry shook his head. No matter what those two did, he found himself asking too many answer-less questions.

 **W** edding

Strangely enough, the flurry of planning which came with a wedding did not exclude him further. Instead, he was consulted on his opinions more often. They went out together, shopping, drinking, celebrating. Funny, that he would experience much more attention due to an event devoted to their closer relationship.

 **X**

X marked the spot where he was supposed to stand on the altar, a little place made with yellow duct tape. His job merely involved staying there, looking serious, and being attractive in a suit. He aced that role all throughout the dress rehearsal, and he wasn't even the former arts student of the trio!

The day of was a different story. Larry thought he might make a silly face at them as they took their positions, to get rid of any nerves. When he tried to wink, Larry found that both his eyes were closing, the corners of them stung furiously. What he intended to be a smirk was more of a twitchy smile.

That hadn't happened in the practice run.

 **Y** ield

The entirety of his youth had been spent trapped outside the fishbowl. He could touch the cool glass. He could press his nose against the surface, fogging it up with his breath. Yet that was as close as he could get.

"Fish are a lame wedding present," Larry decided, rolling his cup in his palms.

It garnered a few weird looks, but the reception guests likely dismissed it as the alcohol.

When he finally found his true sweetheart, he'd tell all the people he invited presents were to be limited to gift certificates only. That way no one would have to go through the same problems he did.

 **Z** zz

They found Larry passed out. He had migrated from the best man's seat at the main table to a dinky spot near the back, where all the near-strangers were placed. One arm was wrapped around a friend of a friend, the other was clutching a bottle of alcohol. Somewhere along the way, his tie had come unraveled, and parts of his hair appeared to have cake frosting in them. His head was tilted back, and he snored loudly. The other man was awake, and mumbling to himself about Phoenix's given name and never yielding.

"We can't just _leave_ him here," was the consensus.

Both winced when they took his legs and arms. Neither of them were exactly young anymore, their backs protested at the heavy lifting. With a bit of luck, they got him to the hotel room and set him on the couch.

"Honestly? I was expecting this."

"Me too."

"He's a permanent fixture."

"He's _Larry."_

 ** _Fin_**


End file.
